Degrees of Grief
by cdewilde
Summary: ONESHOT. Chuck knows the rule: stay in the car. Breaking the rule usually works to his advantage...until it doesn't, of course. SLASH, Casey/Chuck. Warning: Character death.


"Why didn't you stay in the car, Chuck?"

Casey stood at the back of a church overflowing with mourners, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. That ache, though, was nothing when compared to the ruin of his heart.

It only took one time. One time where he hadn't been fast enough to catch him when he fell, one time where the bad guy didn't underestimate Agent Charles Carmichael, one time where the Intersect failed to include an absolutely vital detail. The end result: no more lovable nerd, no more Intersect, no more Chuck Bartowski.

For the NSA and CIA, it meant an urgent rush to recollect the data that had been stored in Chuck's head. Every available agent, and a few who'd lived to retire, was being assigned to intelligence gathering. It would still take two months to put to rights everything that had been lost.

For Ellie, Devon, Morgan, and the Nerd Herd, it meant a grief so deep none of them would be the same. Ellie had lost the last of her family and Casey couldn't remember ever having seen so broken a look in anyone's eye. The Buy ore sales plummeted, although no one could be sure if that was due to the loss of its most effecient computer technician, or the resulting apathy of its employees. Worst of all, they couldn't know the truth of it, would have to believe the lie that the bullet that took Chuck down came from a mugger's gun, would never know that Chuck had sacrificed his life to save an office building full of interns and wage-slaves in a move General Beckman called foolishly heroic.

For Casey, it meant his first failed mission in more than a decade. It meant the end of a cushy assignment that he would grudgingly admit had been a relief from the constant barrage of assassinations and backstabbing politics. It meant…

It meant he would never get to see if their fledgling relationship could lead to something more, something deeper, something he'd begun to need as much as he needed to breathe. It meant no more sloppy kisses on the couch between rounds of Super Smash Bros. It meant waking to a silent house instead of the scent of pancake sandwiches being hastily assembled for breakfast. It meant he'd never get to ambush the younger man in the courtyard and pull him into the shadows for a clandestine make-out session ever again.

The church eventually emptied. Sarah was the last to leave. Mascara ran down her cheeks, and she nodded to him as she pulled the door shut behind her. Casey moved slowly up the aisle, forcing his legs to take each step even though his shoes felt glued to the ground. The mahogany coffin stood at the front, propped open and surrounded by flowers. As he drew closer, his heart turned into a war drum in his ears. He began to lean over to look at the face of the sweetest, most honest man he'd ever met for the last time, and the pounding deafened him…

***

Major John Casey shot up from his couch faster than a firestorm racing across a dry prairie. A sheen of sweat dampened his brow and it took a moment of catching his breath before he realized someone was knocking on his door with increasing fervor. He stalked over and threw it open, ready to chew out whatever poor soul or cookie-towing Girl Scout had dared to approach an NSA lair, only to find the asset with his hand still raised and smiling sheepishly. A bandage circled his bicep where the bullet had grazed him just that morning. He lifted up a bag of Chinese take-out.

"Hey, you're home! I was starting to think maybe you'd forgotten about our classic Nintendo date tonight. Gotta celebrate another successful mission for Team Bartowski, after all—"

Casey cut him off by yanking the younger man against him and thoroughly _devouring_ him. One hand tangled in dark curls, tugging Chuck's head back to improve the angle of the kiss, while the other slid from a respectable position on his lower back down to the curve of his ass and brought them just that much closer. Chuck only floundered for a moment, before the food dropped to the ground and he clung to Casey's Buy More polo with a vengeance.

When they finally came up for air, both were panting. Dazed, Chuck managed a breathless "Wow" between gulps of air. Casey just nodded and rested his forehead against Chuck's.

"So, uh, where'd _that_ come from?" Chuck asked at last.

Casey placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and growled a quick, "Later," before pulling his favorite nerd into the apartment and pushing him towards the stairs. Sappy confessions of exactly how deep this thing between them ran could be saved for later. He planned to spend the rest of the evening meticulously convincing himself that the goofy fool with laughter in his eyes was _very_ much alive.


End file.
